


Bless My Soul

by theyalwayssay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, M/M, Musicals, Theatre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:38:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyalwayssay/pseuds/theyalwayssay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Castiel Novak is thrilled to be back on the Host Stage playing the part of Dennis in this Spring production. A 23-year-old grad student, he is currently working towards a degree in music theory, but always has time for the stage. He would like to give this message to his fellow castmates: Thank you for the relationships that I could never have found on my own. I could want nothing more out of a cast. Waitering's got nothing on this.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>All Shook Up is Dean Winchester's first performance on the Host Stage. Playing the part of Chad, he describes the news of his casting as 'surprising'. He would like to thank his brother in the booth for persuading him to audition, and to Castiel Novak for all the extra dance rehearsals. Singing loudly in a car, apparently, doesn't contribute to coordination. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bless My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> I've gotta say, this AU has been a long time coming. The show _All Shook Up_ holds a lot of sentimental value to me personally, as it was one of the first major productions I ever worked backstage for. For anyone who's seen the show, you know how wild and fun in a super crazy way it is. Seriously, this AU just writes itself. If I had been watching Supernatural while working this show, I would have been constantly flailing at all the connections that could be made between the two. For those who don't know, the production is basically a 1950's AU of Shakespeare's _Twelfth Night_ with Elvis songs. Crowley's character as director is based not only on his own natural personality, but on my own experiences with directors, who really can be that nasty, especially if they've had previous Broadway experiences. This'll probably be a short multi-chapter, but I'm just so thrilled that I finally have the time to write it! Feel free to leave a comment if you have any questions or criticism! Thanks for reading!

“And I just want to say,” Cassie said, looking around at the circle of actors standing around her, “that it has been an absolute honor working with you all.”

Dean huffed, his fingers twitching impatiently against Cas’s palm. Cas squeezed his hand back reassuringly. Dean released a small smirk as the cast, as one, bowed their heads, either praying or meditating or saying _You’d better not fuck this up_ , as Dean was. Despite the fact that they had been rehearsing for three months, there was many things about the theatre that Dean simply couldn’t get used to, like the backstage prayer circles before curtain, or the weird tea that some of the actors drank that was probably made out of lavender and sloth vagina or something disgusting like that. Nevertheless, there was something about the distant chatter of the crowd, floating through the curtains and filling the stage like a wine-soaked haze, that broke the little cocoons in Dean’s stomach and sent moths crawling all through it. He shuffled again. It was the hand-holding that really got him, with Jo on one side and Cas on the other. He could feel the faint pricks of nervous sweat on Jo’s hand, but Cas gripped his hand tightly again, as though telling him to be still simply through movement. Dean stilled and glanced over at Cas, who was dressed in his costume for his first scene, a sweatervest and thick black glasses that framed his blue eyes like twin paintings. Cas swayed from side to side, listening to the overture music that played over the backstage speakers. He seemed perfectly relaxed, his thin chapped lips loosened and mouthing the words to the songs lightly. It seemed like such an odd picture when compared to the other actors, Cassie shifting from the ball of one foot to the other to Alfie, who was biting his bottom lip so hard that he was drawing blood. Cas stood out like a poppy on a hillside. But then again, Cas always stood out, bright as the grey behind him. And he was never nervous.

Dean never would have thought to have tried out for a play if Sam hadn’t persuaded him. “I’m doing lighting to get my tech credit,” he had said, “but everyone’s going to be in it. It’ll be like a reunion. Cassie and Jo and Alfie…and it’s all rock and roll songs. Come on, you love Elvis.”

“Wrong,” Dean said turning up the music on the radio. “I like Chuck Berry. Elvis is a hack.”

Sam leaned over and turned off the radio, huffing as he slumped back into his seat. “You’re always like this,” he mumbled. “You don’t know how to have any fun.”

“Sammy, being in a musical isn’t fun,” Dean snapped. “Stripping out of tights while a bunch of gay guys smother me with hairspray? Tell me which part of that sounds like fun.”

“You used to like the plays when we were little,” Sam replied. “Remember? You saw me in _Our Town_.”

“Yea, well I wasn’t the one performing in it, was I?”

Sam sat back, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment. “Okay,” he said, turning in his seat to face Dean. “Think of it this way. Most of the girls in the show are going to be single, right? And nearly all of the guys in the show aren’t going to be into girls. Absolutely no competition whatsoever. Are you really going to pass up that offer?”

***

He sat in a corner of the audition room, watching one nervous face after another pass by, like they were all waiting to hear the verdict of a death sentence, wringing sheet music between their hands. Dean sighed when they called his name, getting to his feet as though it was a great struggle, walking into the audition room with his shoulders slumping, singing his audition song lazily, even though he’d sung the same AC/DC song with enough vivacity that his headbanging nearly broke the Impala’s driver’s window and nearly gave himself a concussion. He promised Sammy that he would audition is all. He never promised he’d get a part in the show.

There was a call a week later. 

Sam picked up on the third ring.

“Dude, who’s Chad?”

“Um, I don’t know a Chad?”

“In the musical, you idiot. They said I got cast as a Chad, who the hell is that?”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“That’s the lead, Dean.”

“…Fuck.”

***

The house was empty as a ghost theatre, boasting only a few rows filled with actors. Dean walked quickly down the aisle, his eyes averted from the cast.

“Dean?” a voice called.

He sighed, looking up to see Jo grinning at him. “Hi, Jo,” he muttered.

“I didn’t know you were in the show. And…you do musical theatre now?” she asked.

“Sammy forced me to,” Dean replied. Jo nodded understandingly and leaned back in her chair, smirking. Dean climbed up the steps to the very top of the seats, settling himself in the corner and running a hand through his hair. There was a squeak as someone sat down in the seat beside him.

“Not to be rude or anything, but I sort of sat up here so that there wouldn’t be anyone next to me,” Dean said, his eyes fixed lazily on a corner of the stage.

“Funny, I was trying to do the same thing. And yet your ass is preventing me from doing so. Congratulations.”

Dean glanced up to see a pair of bright blue eyes staring at him. They belonged to a pale man with a shock of dark hair that hung over his forehead like heavy velvet. His eyebrows were raised challengingly in Dean’s direction.

“You look like a tax accountant. Or like someone out of _American Psycho_ ,” Dean replied stonily, taking in the man’s black suit.

“Just got off work,” he replied in answer. “Turns out waitering doesn’t allow rehearsal warmup in their uniform guidelines. Which doesn’t really explain you,” he said, glancing over Dean’s jeans and leather jacket. “You just get off work in a biker gang?” 

Dean nodded slowly, his eyebrows raised. Okay. So maybe there was something to being in a musical. At least he wouldn’t be bored. “I’m Dean,” he said, reaching out a hand.  
“Cas,” the man replied, shaking it. “You know there’s a Dean in the show, right?”

“Really?”

“Yea. I think that kid’s playing him down there,” Cas pointed at a brown-hair boy that looked hardly more than a teenager sitting stiffly between Jo and a red-haired girl. “I’m pretty sure he tweezes,” Cas said conspiratorially to Dean. 

Dean chuckled. “That’ll be awesome. Will he need help putting on his fake eyelashes?”

Castiel raised his hands. “I’ll admit, I’ve heard that he’s a great actor. But he really does look a bit too well-groomed, you know?”

Dean was about to answer when the door to the house banged open. A short, balding man in a suit strolled in, a pissed-off looking girl following, her arms laden with piles of papers.

“Who’s this?” Dean whispered as the controlled mutterings of the cast quieted immediately. Cas looked at him with confusion. 

“He’s the director,” he replied. “What exactly is there that you know about this show?”

“I don’t know shit,” Dean replied. “My brother was the one who made me audition.”

“All right!” the man called, his voice echoing through the near-empty house. “The name’s Crowley, ladies and gentlemen. And, unless your screaming my name from between bedsheets, or you think my first name is Mr., it’s Crowley to you and Crowley only. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.” he shrugged. “What am I saying, everyone has. In that case you’ll know I run a no-nonsense ship. You’re here to do a job, and I’m here to take all the credit for that job. Meg is here to make sure that I don’t have to deal with any of you directly.” He gestured towards the dark-haired girl, who sighed heavily, looking completely fed up with the whole situation. “You might be asking, ‘how is this going to be a good show if it’s off-Broadway?’ Well, I’ll have you know that I was sacked from my award-winning run as a West End director, a story which I’m sure you all have heard of, as it's been in all the tabloids. However, my loss is your gain. You’re getting professional, star-quality treatment and professionalism while I use you to work my way back to the top. No hard feelings, it’s only show business. Now, I’m going to work on the first scene today. I hope you all brought your dancing shoes and vodka to numb the pain, because the next time you sit down will be in four hours.”

Dean slumped back in his chair as the others got to their feet, stretching and making their way quickly down the steps towards the stage.

“Do you need an invitation?” Cas asked, getting out of his chair and holding a hand out for Dean.

Dean glared up at him. “I’m no psychic or anything, but I’m pretty sure that this is going to suck.”

“You’d be right,” Cas replied, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of his seat towards the stage.


End file.
